Small CC, Big Lessons: Humility on Two Wheels
From a rocky start in October 2025 to finding community in 2026, here are some lessons learned on a small displacement bike.
The Honeymoon (And the Fall)
October 2025. I finally got my first bike.
The primary reason wasn’t some grand vision of adventure. It was practical. I wanted to stop relying on others for transport. I was tired of the Matatu life, the delays, the chaos, and especially the dusty shoes that come with it. I just wanted to get from A to B on my own terms.
It was a modest, light-displacement machine what many would call a “starter” or “small cc” bike. I was excited, I was ready, and as it turns out, I was a bit too confident.
Three days later, I was on the ground.
A simple drop, a surge of adrenaline, and a realization that my finger didn’t look quite right. That injury was a literal wake-up call. The bike was tough enough to handle it, but my ego was bruised far more than my finger. For the next few months, the bike became strictly a “utility.” I used it to commute but I kept my distance from the “biker life.” I was still just a guy on a bike, focusing on the commute and not much else.
The Reality Check: Gear and Community
One thing I quickly learned: the freedom of two wheels isn’t cheap. The gear is pretty expensive. Between a good helmet, boots, and protection, you realize that avoiding the “matatu life” comes with its own financial weight.
But despite the costs and the early crash, something shifted as we entered 2026. I decided to stop riding in total isolation. I’m still mostly just a guy using a bike to get from point A to point B, but I’ve started dipping my toes into the wider community.
Three experiences started that shift:
1. Ubuntu Run (Kenya Edition)
Riding for a cause changes your perspective. It’s no longer about your commute or your speed; it’s about the collective. Seeing hundreds of riders come together showed me the scale of this community.
2. Biker’s Prayer Day
There is something uniquely grounding about standing with a group of people who all acknowledge the risks we take and the passion we share. It felt less like a hobby and more like a brotherhood.
3. Joining a Nyumba Kumi
In the Kenyan biking scene, “Nyumba Kumi” groups are where the real connection happens. It’s the group that checks in when you’re late, the ones who show up if you’re stranded, and the friends who turn a weekend into an adventure. Joining one meant I wasn’t just a commuter anymore—I was part of a village.
Why “Small CC”?
People often ask when I’m upgrading. The honest answer? I’m in no rush.
There is a unique joy in “small cc adventures.” You can’t just power out of every situation; you have to be technical. You feel the terrain more. You’re more approachable. And honestly, a small displacement bike is more than enough to explore the hidden corners of this country without the baggage of heavy machinery.
What’s Next?
I’m still primarily a commuter, but I want to do more. I want to see more of the dust (on the trails, not on my shoes), more of the trails, and meet more of the people who make this community what it is.
I’ll be sharing more here—videos of the rides (once I get my mount sorted), photos of the landscapes (once I stop being too busy riding to pull out the camera), and the lessons I’m learning on two wheels.
This isn’t about the specific machine. It’s about the adventure, however small the engine.